


Living the Dream

by Tinyshot



Series: Silver and Steel [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, You guys asked for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6621313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinyshot/pseuds/Tinyshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of the Shrouded.</p><p>It's recommended to read it before this to understand the story better.</p><p>Based off another k/meme prompt:<br/>SS is sick so the companions have to fill in as the Silver shroud until SS is better.</p><p>I prefer the term indisposed.<br/>Arthur Maxson and Paladin Danse have a disagreement over the ownership of a particular item.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bid for the Win

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be 3 chapters, and I already know what those are about. With another weekend coming close, I might be able to hopefully give you another awesome story to keep you warm and fuzzy at night :3
> 
> Thank you guys for your amazing response to the Shrouded. I love you. Enjoy!

The lengthy resource report was smelling potenty like machine oil, dust and wet dog. Anna cringed and flipped through another page, getting a noseful. She had been ignoring this monster for too long.

The Castle's supply chain was shaky at best. The Minutemen were expanding westward, but they, unlike the Brotherhood, didn't have a dedicated logistics department. So the task of dealing with it fell to the General.

She had been cooped up in her office under the west bastion for three days already, and the mountain of paperwork didn't seem to be shrinking, not any time soon. She missed the open air. But she also knew it would distract her, and her thoughts inevitably would turn to the north, where Prydwen hung low over the ruined airport, clearly visible across the bay.

To _Arthur_.

Anna groaned and dropped her head on the squeaky desk. And here she was trying to not think about him. He was _so_ distracting.

She had tried to do this paperwork back on the Prydwen, closer to the warm showers, real beds and heated rooms. She tried and failed miserably because as soon as she would be able to finish her duties the and unfold the papers a tall blue-eyed shadow would stalk towards her and take them out of her hands. And then, well.

Sighing, Anna waved off the delicious thoughts, lifted her head off the map and reached out for some ink. Dipping her pen into a small bottle, she started to mark potential settlement sites and supply depots.

A loud crash from behind the door caused her to drop a large blob of ink on the map and she cursed loudly, hastily trying to dab it off.

What in the world. Did another ancient frag mine go off on its own?

"Hey! You can't just barge in!" yelled Ronnie Shaw, her voice cutting through the thick oak of the heavy door without any trouble.

The door shook. It was locked, and only Anna herself and Preston had the key.

"You got it to the count of five ‘fore I singe your damn arses off! One!"

Anna sighed and pushed herself away from the desk. Ronnie never joked, so she should better come check it out.

"Two!"

Someone else was talking by the door, but she couldn't tell who that was. Now, what was it? Some angry settlers? Need more beds? Or just found that their favorite mismatched boot was chewed up and pissed on?

"Three!"

Anna fumbled with the key.

" _Four_!"

The key turned and the door flew open, hitting her in the face. She cried out, turning away from it, feeling her nose pulsing with pain already.

"Fi-"

"I've got this, Ronnie, put the thing down!" yelled Anna at the top of her lungs, covering her aching nose with her palm. She could feel hot blood coming out, and that was all she could smell and taste, but the last thing she needed is Ronnie unsheathing that damn gauss rifle. She hit the stone wall with her fist, hard, trying to distract her own body from the sharper pain.

"I'm going to be killing. Someone. Right. _Now_ ," growled Anna, turning towards the door.

Arthur and Danse were standing there, looking quite guilty. She groaned, rolling her eyes at them, and motioned to her nightstand.

Danse darted over and dug up a first aid kit she kept there. He grabbed her by the arm and led her to an old armchair in the corner. Sitting her down, he took her by the chin and turned her head from one side to another, assessing the damage.

Then he raised his large hand, almost connecting to her throbbing nose. His eyes were worried when she met them.

"This is going to hurt."

"Just do it," she answered through gritted teeth.

His fingers hovered over her for a second, and then carefully grabbed her nose and set it back in place.

She didn't mean to kick him, but she did. Anna was groaning through her teeth at the pain, and her leg bucked, hitting Danse on the shin with metal fortified boot.

Swearing liberally, Paladin jumped away from her, favoring his left leg. Anna covered her eyes with a hand, careful not to touch her nose.

What a matching pair of idiots they were, a teacher and a student.

She felt a piece of gauze on her face, wiping away the blood, and opened her eyes to see Arthur sitting back on his haunches next to her, just as worried as Danse was. She fought down the urge to smile. The two of them had some serious explaining to do. She told them not to show up at the Castle.

She couldn't really order them, no, but she asked them like a normal human being to only bother her in an emergency. She had stuff to do and they weren't helping.

What was the damn emergency for both of them to show up?

Feeling a bit better, Anna reached out to her med kit and took out a bottle of pills. Arthur frowned at the label, but at the moment, she didn't give a damn. She popped a few pills of Med-X and sighed, relaxing on the chair. She looked at Danse, who had rolled the jumpsuit up, inspecting the rapidly darkening bruise, and threw the bottle at him.

It bounced away from his shoulder with a funny sound. Anna snorted. Well, it was starting to work alright. She might actually not kill them.

"What are you two doing here?" she sounded stuffy, and more than a bit offended, "thought I told you not to come."

"Well..."

Danse and Arthur exchanged glances.

"There was something the recon team had found. We... well, we had to come to you."

Anna perked up a bit. Was it something good? Another Vault maybe? A stockpile of pre-war tech? Or resources, but that was unlikely. Maybe they found a settlement, or it could have been a supermutant hive...

"This."

Arthur handed her a bundle of dark cloth. It felt familiar under her fingers and it shone almost silvery under the electric light...

She unrolled it to find a dark trenchcoat. She sighed heavily. That's it?

"So? Another Shroud coat. What do you need me for?"

"Me and scribe Haylen were just digging through ruins when we found this in some abandoned basement. The person who lived there was obsessed with the Shroud, we found recordings, comic books, props... and this."

"So?" Anna repeated, sounding more annoyed.

Danse shot an angry glance at Arthur.

"I found it! But Arthur was intent on taking it for himself!"

Anna groaned and threw her med kit at Danse, this time aiming for his head.

"What are you, five?!"

"I told you..." started Arthur, sounding smug, but Anna's boot pressed into his chest with force, knocking him on the ass.

"And you?! Don't you have an army to lead or something? Out!"

"But..."

"Get. Out! Both of you!" she was pushing Arthur, who barely had time to get up, towards the door.

"But what are we going to do with the costume?" protested Danse. Anna rolled the trenchcoat up and threw it on her bed in the far corner.

"I’m keeping it! I'm the Shroud!"

Arthur stopped his retreat and dug his heels in, grabbing onto the uneven stones for further support. No matter how hard she tried Anna couldn't move him another inch. Danse carefully came up beside them.

"And what does the Shroud do? You left the people of Commonwealth to deal with their own problems while you are figuring out the supply situation. Nobody is protecting them from criminals while you are hiding in here," Arthur seemed unphased by her continued attempts at forcing him out the door. He spoke with the same determination as when he was giving speeches in his command center, "the people of the Commonwealth need their hero!"

Suddenly realizing what this was all about, Anna laughed almost hysterically.

"So let me guess," she said, quieting down abruptly, "you wanted to be me. The Shroud. While I was busy."

"... yes," he said, getting slightly rosy, and looked away. Before Anna could come up with a suitably offensive answer, Arthur glared at Danse, "but so was he."

Anna stared at Danse. Paladin was intently inspecting his bruised shin.

"Unbelievable."

She threw her hands up and went for her bed. Picking up the trenchcoat, she sighed.

"Just why exactly did you come to me?"

"Well, you are the Shroud. We thought you need to decide."

"And here I thought the two of you were grown men. Well, mom did tell me that guys never really grow up. I should have known."

She sat down on her bed, looking at them.

"Just why can't you two decide on your own?"

"Because," now it was Dance's turn to sound angry, "he can't argue without pulling the rank on me."

"I do outrank you," growled Arthur, his Elder persona showing through, "Paladin. I still don't see the point of this debacle."

"See?"

Anna groaned again. What a bunch of boys.

"Arthur, you are more than capable to have an argument without resorting to this. It's not a matter of Brotherhood. It's a matter of you two being too obsessed with a fictional character. Figure it out, you're friends. Most of the time."

Though she did noticed tensions rising between the two after she had become Arthur's lover. She wondered if Danse was jealous of them. Of her.

But hey, it probably was something unrelated. She never was that pretty, and it must be just her ego going, with Arthur stroking it so hard. She still sometimes couldn't believe her luck. Before the Shroud incident, he didn't even notice her, as if she was made of glass.

She was somewhat boyish, with sharp features, a few shallow lines appearing in the corners of her light brown eyes. Dark messy hair cut at just below her ears, swept back, but there were always stray strands of hair sticking out no matter how hard she tried to slick or pin them away. She never was curvy. Slender, bordering on lanky, though past pregnancy did add some fat to her thighs, but her breasts were small and supple. She had hoped that after giving birth and nursing she would add a size, but it was in vain.

And she was tall. It was always her curse, even back in the olden days. Not many men felt comfortable with a lady that was taller than them. She was always wearing flats because of that.

And these days she was feeling like she was towering over the people she met, which didn't add to her confidence. The Brotherhood was a pleasant exception, with Arthur and Danse, along with most of their soldiers, being taller than her, though not by much.

She suspected that the reason Rhys was pissed at her all the time was that she was taller than him by about five inches, giving him away as wasteland-born. And making him look up whenever he talked to her. What a poor baby.

She supposed did have fair skin, sunburnt way too many times and still not getting tanned. First rule of the Commonwealth, never leave without a hat. No more cars to hide in. She was also sporting some light freckles now. Anna thought they were annoying. Arthur thought they were beautiful.

Nope, despite Arthur constantly telling her otherwise, she wasn't much of a looker. Danse, on the other hand, was the one turning heads, whenever he pulled his own head out of the bucket, that is.

Anna caught herself staring at him again, and this time, she was sure Arthur saw it too. She shifted in her seat and avoided meeting his eyes, trying to smooth her sticking hair into submission. Uh... what were they talking about again?

"Well, it's obvious we can't, otherwise we wouldn't have come to you."

Anna eyed the stack of papers on her desk. With them here, arguing, she couldn't do much. And she badly needed to.

"Tell you what," she said, in as peaceful tone as she could muster, "convince me. Make a bid on the damn thing, and I would even loan you my hat. Make it good, though, get something nice."

"Like what," Danse arched his eyebrow, "a gun or something?"

"Whatever. Mod a gun, bake a cake, I don't know. Use your imagination," she smirked, "improvise. It's a very important trait for a _superhero_."

Danse looked confused. Anna turned over to Arthur and couldn't help but laugh out loud. He was standing there, with his fingers scratching dark beard, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She could almost hear gears in his head turning.

"You have three days. Think fast," she stuffed the trenchcoat into her chest and locked it, then pointed at the door, "now go away. I'm busy."

 

On the third day, Anna wasn't sure it was such a good idea.

It got them out of her 'office' rather quickly, but she knew they would return. And she quite honestly dreaded what the two of them might come up with.

Danse would probably bring a gun or an armor piece he had modified himself. Or maybe, if he gets Haylen's help, something sweet. He liked sweets. He was a good, generous person, despite being a bit uptight. She knew whatever he brings to the table would be worth her time.

But Arthur... Arthur had a devious mind. Each time she tried to imagine what he would come up with, she was getting nervous. In the end, she had no idea.

At least the temporary distraction let her complete most of her work, as well as stopped the two men from laying a siege on her quarters.

It also stopped Ronnie from shooting them off the island with a gauss rifle, though when Anna passed by her, the woman was eyeing the approaching vertibird with suspicion, polishing the Last Minute.

By the time Arthur and Danse made their way to the Castle, Anna had brushed her hair, put on her General's garb and fixed the tricorn on her head. It looked more official that way and maybe, just maybe, would stop the scuttlebutt.

She already had to deal with constant snickering behind her back on the Prydwen. It had been very well known, since that first time, that she was the Elder's lover. Some even called her pet, though those would get a knee in the crotch from her or a stern look from Danse. And she wasn't sure which one the gossips feared more.

Not to mention that Arthur had made it his personal goal to make her forget about that and scream her pleasure out each time they had sex. Metal walls of the airship carried the sound too well.

Anna sighed and carefully touched still swollen bridge of the nose. It was healing, yes, but even with stimpacks, it was still bruised. She must be looking like hell.

When she showed them to the quarters, Anna noticed Danse carrying something on his back, wrapped in simple cloth, something rather rifle-shaped. She grinned. She was right.

Arthur's hands were free. She couldn't see anything, though his coat did have an incredible amount of pockets... Whatever it was Anna hoped it wasn't going to explode.

The costume in question was neatly folded on the table, her Shroud hat and scarf on top. Anna crossed the room and came to sit on her chair, fingers drumming on the old wooden surface.

"Alright, gentlemen. Show me what you got here."

Danse was first. He put the rifle down in front of her and Anna tore the wrap away from it. Inside was a beautifully polished laser musket, modified to perfection.

"I named it Freedom Fighter," Danse said softly, looking at her with a hopeful smile, "I thought it would fit."

Anna was beaming. The musket was beautiful. Minutemen were strapping those things together from whatever scrap metal they could find, notoriously using old nails in their scopes. This was way different. It was made specifically for this purpose out of gleaming high-quality steel; crank mechanism was smooth, the loading chamber was able to take five fusion cells in the single shot instead of regular four and three, high-power night vision scope perfect for her style of fighting.

A weapon fit for the General.

Her hands couldn't stop touching the beautiful rifle. She lined up the sights towards Arthur and grinned.

"Whatever you have is better be good. I'm damn sure Danse had just beaten you."

"Oh?" Arthur lifted an eyebrow, smirking, "have you met me? I always have a plan."

Anna shrugged and put the rifle down on the table, her fingers trailing the long barrel.

"All right. Let's hear it."

He smiled, his brilliant blue eyes were unusually dark.

" _You_."

Anna looked up, confused, but then she realized that Arthur wasn't looking at her.

He was looking at Danse.

"I've seen the looks you give each other when you think the other one is not watching. Amusingly, you have each other fooled. Selective blindness, I think it’s called. But I see it..."

Well... that was unexpected. Was he stealing the glances too? She could see Adam's apple on Dance's throat going up and down as he swallowed hard. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm not yours to bid, Arthur," she hissed. He nodded.

"I know, love. That's why I was asking _him_. Give it up, Danse. And I'll move out of your way for the night. You are free to act... or not. But I know she wants you too..."

Anna stared at Danse, then Arthur. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She... she should be offended, really. But instead she was unhealthily aroused, her mouth opened slightly, and the mad pumping of her heart echoing in bursts of small pain in the bridge of her broken nose.

And then Dance turned to face her and Anna couldn't believe the intensity of his gaze. Without breaking the eye contact, Paladin grabbed the trenchcoat and threw it in Arthur's general direction.

She heard him laughing.

"On one condition."

They both turned to him, watching as Arthur let his heavy battlecoat drop to the stone floor as he slipped into the Shroud costume.

"I get to watch the show."

Danse's eyes were back on her in a moment, and he shoved the flimsy table that was sitting between them to the side.

"Deal," he rasped, and there was something so primal in his voice that Anna moaned quietly as it surged through her, fear and anticipation tangling. She bit her lip, watching Danse closing the short distance between them.

His strong arm was around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, and she felt his hand pulling off her hat, then going underneath her chin, just like the other day, making her look up.

"But only if you really want this..." he whispered, a question in his eyes. Ah, poor sweet Danse. Maybe if he'd said something sooner, maybe... Well, what's done is done. Anna smiled, her arms closing around him, pulling his even closer.

"You have no idea how badly I want you Danse. Had for a while," she whispered and felt him shudder, fire returning to his dark eyes.

"You asked for it," he said quietly.

Danse pushed them closer to the wall, her back pressing to uneven stones, and he was kissing her deeply, though somehow still mindful of the injury they had caused her.

He was the kindest man she knew, before or after the war. She trusted him.

His lips traveled lower, and he was kissing and lightly biting her neck, causing her to gasp when his teeth were biting and scraping gently over her throat. That was... exhilarating. She often found that what her body thought was danger turned her on, despite being in relative safety, knowing that Danse would never ever hurt her on purpose.

Anna opened her eyes and saw Arthur moving the armchair to the middle of the room, where he lounged now his Shroud costume, smirking. He had the hat pulled low on his face and so she couldn't see his eyes in the shadow, but she was sure he was watching hers and Danse's every move.

She wondered if he was going to join them.

Her armored jacket slipped on the floor, strong hands sliding up and down her body, exploring, feeling. Anna quickly started unbuttoning her shirt. She remembered too well what happened when Arthur was trying to do that blindly. Even though Danse had more self-control, she didn't want to risk it.

Picking the ripped buttons in the shadowy room was a pain.

His lips had captured hers once again, and Anna moaned quietly. He tasted sweet, like those snack cakes he liked so much, and a bit salty, spiking the sensation. He was amazing.

The shirt fell down from her narrow shoulders, bra following shortly after. Her small breasts were engulfed by Danse's rough hands, his toughened skin scratching her nipples so good.

She was tugging at the zipper of his jumpsuit, unbuckling the straps. After undressing Arthur so many times, she was quite proficient at this, and very soon Dance pulled away from her, gasping for air, and peeled his jumpsuit down, letting it drop on the floor. Anna bit her lip, admiring his body. It was sculpted perfectly, powerful muscles bulging, and everywhere his skin wasn't obscured with thick dark hair it was crossed with scars, old and new. Like Arthur, he had a body of a warrior, though he had the bulk to his body that only comes with maturity.

Arthur, despite being built like a young god, was very possibly still growing. She often felt filthy for sleeping with him, being almost ten years older and all. Danse was a lot closer to her own age, and it was somehow making her comfortable.

His pupils were eclipsing warm brown of his iris, making his eyes look black and hungry, like the void, but her eyes strayed down nonetheless. She grinned his thick shaft, her eyes widening.

"Well, I see should have asked for that gun first."

She heard him chuckle deeply, echoed by Arthur. She could feel his icy blue eyes on her. Her skin tingled, already missing the heat of Danse's body.

"Get on your knees, knight," his voice low and commanding. He pointed to the side of him, and Anna couldn't help but grin.

He was showing off. He wanted Arthur to see her, on her knees, sucking his dick.

She was happy to oblige.

Having an audience felt deeply perverted and she reveled in it. Dropping to the floor, she looked up, meeting Danse's eyes as she took him in her mouth. Paladin groaned as she sucked, tangling his hands in her short hair. She heard Arthur dragging in a ragged breath and hummed with pleasure, sending sweet vibrations up Danse's cock. His hold on her hair was getting almost painful, his girth making her jaws ache.

He suddenly pulled her off him, breathing deep and deliberately slow. Anna was panting, smiling wide despite the burning in her jaw muscles.

Well, here is another benefit of an older man - stamina and self-control. Despite being a quick and attentive learner Arthur was young and impatient.

Maybe that's why he was so eager to watch her and Danse. Or maybe he is simply kinkier that she thought.

Danse lifted her from the floor without any effort and walked her to the table. Turning her around he roughly pushed her down. Anna lifted her ass higher, standing on her toes. His fingers rubbed at her clit, dipped inside her pussy, feeling how slick she was, then slipped higher, rubbing against the tight ring of muscles. She moaned and tried to relax under his touch.

Turning her head to look at Danse she also caught a glimpse of Arthur slowly stroking himself.

Danse bent down over her, biting her shoulder possessively and she cried out with pleasure. She loved that feeling, sending shivers down her spine. Taking the hint, he started nibbling all over her shoulders and back of her neck.

One hand went over her throat, while the other one was positioning him at her entrance. Anna tried to thrust her hips at him, but he tightened his grip on her, only allowing a desperate gasp after she stopped moving.

"Impatient, are we?" he mused as she panted, trying to catch her breath. It was too much. His hands on her, his body against hers, coarse hair scratching sensitive skin on her back, but most of all, the constant acute awareness of Arthur behind them, watching.

Her pussy throbbed with the desire to be filled. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Please..." she sobbed, "please, Danse, please please _please_..."

He laughed quietly, his teeth grazing her delicate earlobe.

"Please what? You'll have to be more specific."

"Please, _sir_... please, fuck me. I can't..."

He planted a gentle kiss on her neck as he thrust into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. She whimpered, shuddering at the sudden fullness.

Danse gave her a few seconds before setting a merciless pace. Sliding off her throat, his hand pulled her head back by the hair, kissing and nibbling at her shoulders as she gasped for air at each deep, powerful thrust, overwhelmed by the sensations.

His other hand slid under her and starting rubbing her clit, making her squirm and writhe until she couldn't take it anymore.

Anna came, screaming. Her pussy clamped around his thick shaft, fluttering and tightening. Danse groaned, slowing down, but kept going.

He released her hair and had to hold her against his body as her hands shook and gave under her. It felt like he was thrusting her onto himself instead of the other way around, impaling her onto his cock.

Then he flipped her boneless body around so he could look at her face, his hands on her breasts in a second and she sighed, arching into his touch. It was sending sweet aftershocks through her body.

He thrust deep into her, holding her gaze, and then pulled out abruptly, spilling on the stone floor. Her name came from his lips in a whisper as he slumped over the table, holding himself up so not to crush her.

After his breathing evened out, he pulled her close and held her to his chest, kissing her gently on the forehead. Anna wrapped her arms around him, fingers gliding across his muscled back, light touch relaxing and calming him.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and noticed Arthur getting up. He tucked himself in, stuffing some soiled cloth into his pocket and stalked over to them. Danse pulled away from her, eyeing the younger man warily.

Anna had expected him to either tell Danse to get out or join them for the next round. Instead, he leaned over her, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips, and then pulled away. He smirked, tipped his hat and walked out, closing the door behind him.

 

The day after next Danse was packing in his room, preparing for a salvage run, expected to last for a week or so. He was hoping Anna would make it back to Prydwen, but she was still preoccupied with Minutemen business. A pity. He had hoped to get her to join the mission.

A knock on the door made him jump up. He crossed the room quickly, opening the door with a wide smile.

"I hoped you..."

He cut off. Behind the door was standing Arthur Maxson, hands clasped behind his back as usual. He noticed the battlecoat was back. He had forgotten it at the Castle after changing into Shroud costume.

He visited her. Of course he did.

The silence stretched until Maxson cleared his throat and gestured towards the door.

"May I come in?"

Danse sighed heavily and motioned him in.

"It's your damn ship, Arthur. You can go anywhere."

"I still prefer to ask. It's your room."

He shrugged. Living as a part of a military order for the past fourteen years had made him pretty much forget the concept of privacy.

"What do you want?"

Instead of answering, Maxson pulled out a tightly wrapped black bundle and placed a familiar hat he was holding behind his back on top of it. Danse lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Why? It's yours. You... pretty much bribed me into giving it up. Not that I didn't enjoy it... still. I think it was a bit too strong even of you."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his neck. Where in the world did the evil mastermind go, he now looked like a more or less regular twenty year old.

"You know I have duties and responsibilities. I can't just go away for an extended period of time. Pretty much like Anna, unfortunately."

Danse reached out to touch the smooth reflective fabric of the coat.

"So you basically did it all for nothing?"

"I was actually thinking, that we could both be the Shroud when we can. You have things to deal with too. Being a hero is a full-time job. If we share this role, there would be no need for any more conflict."

Danse smirked and put the hat on his head. Arthur chuckled in response, the old familiar feeling of companionship returning in a rush.

"So what about being with the Shroud?" he asked cautiously. The young man shrugged.

"That would be up to the Shroud."

Paladin took the costume out of Maxson's hands and unrolled it. Smiling, he put it on, smoothing over the coat with almost wonderment.

He looked over to Arthur.

"Why did you leave that night?"

"Seemed only fair you get her... undivided attention. Plus I wanted to feel it. To walk over the Commonwealth with nobody knowing who you really are."

Danse shrugged off the coat and rolled it up along with the hat and silver scarf.

"The medical center scribes are interested in is located in the middle of city ruins. I think it's time high time I take this outfit for a spin."

Arthur nodded, grinning. He extended his hand.

"So we're good?"

Danse grasped his hand tightly and nodded.

"Better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe.


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to put the costume on, for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to MidnightMoonCat for the inspiration she provides <3

The wind was tugging on his long coat, cold seeping through. Leaning on an old lamp post, he scanned the poorly lit street from under the rim of his hat.

Like always, Goodneighbor was full of shady characters, though a lot of them were giving him a wide berth, understanding who he was. Ghouls, synths, robots, junkies, occasional well-behaved supermutant. The usual crowd.

He almost stopped reaching for the gun whenever one of them approached him. He had to remind himself that it's irrelevant while he is wearing the coat. He was their hero, the only one they had.

There were a few types of people around here: those who went straight to him and wanted something, those who were respectful in case they will need something in the future, and those who ran away as soon as they noticed him.

And well, here it comes. He could easily see a young drifter making his way through the crowd towards him, glancing nervously behind his shoulder. He lit a cigarette, waiting for the man to come closer, the flame of his lighter quivering in the wind.

"S-Silver Shroud, sir?" it was hard not to smirk. Drifter was young but he himself wasn't much older, "I have something here. I was told to give it to you."

He quickly stepped back, reaching for the submachine gun. Alright, they already tried to do that one before. Would it be a knife? A bullet? Maybe even explosives, seeing how much this one was shaking.

Drifter yelped and dropped to his knees, sobbing.

"Please, sir! It's not like that! I have a message, I just wanted to make a few caps!.."

"Very well," he said slowly, keeping his voice a low rumble, "speak."

"Oh thank you! I-I was told there is an important client is awaiting you in the Third Rail! That's all!"

He rubbed his chin, a leather glove making soft noises against the closely trimmed beard. The Third Rail, huh. The place where it all begun. He heard that the mayor of this dump had owned the watering hole. That could be him trying to get his help.

Despite his continued disdain for ghouls, he couldn't help but feel a little better with this one. He and that rebel synth from the Diamond City had kept her safe in the Glowing Sea. It was quite an argument they had, he remembered. In the end, her logic and determination made him agree, though just barely.

Waving the drifter away, he finished his cigarette in silence. No one else seemed to be approaching him, so he stepped out of the circle of flickering light and started walking slowly towards the bar.

The door opened with a squeak, revealing a dark foyer of sorts, and he made his way down the stairs toward the light. He tensed immediately, seeing that the Rail was a lot emptier than usual. Only the singer and another woman, facing away from him, along with, of course, Charlie. Both of the women were wearing dresses, though Magnolia's was short and provocative like always. Red and sparkly, it fit right in with this seedy bar.

The other lady had a different air about her. She looked out of place, much like he did himself. Long black dress hugging her slender figure, the open back teasing him, angled shoulder blades looking tender and vulnerable. Short dark hair was swept back behind her ears, shining in the murky light.

When she turned at the sound of his steps, he could see that the floor-length dress had a slit along one side and he smirked, catching a glimpse of a long beautiful leg.

She was older than him, but she was easily the most gorgeous woman that he had ever seen in his life. Dark eyes that seem too large for her face, thin chiseled features, red lips curved in a small smile, a stray strand of hair falling onto her forehead, curling lightly. A thin trail of smoke weaved next to her face. Her toned arms were hidden in the long black gloves, a silver cigarette holder between her fingers.

Her smile widened a bit as she noticed him. Leaning closer to Magnolia, she whispered something into her ear and the singer giggled. They smirked at each other and shared a kiss, long and sensual. He swallowed hard, pulling his coat close. It was a business meeting, she called him over to deal with a problem. It wouldn't do well to stare, but he couldn't help himself, already hardening. At least with glasses on it wasn't too obvious that he was looking, but he knew that she knew.

Breaking the kiss, the lady nodded to the stage, whispering again. Magnolia nodded back and, winking at him, walked up the small stairs and hit the button of a recorder. The tape clicked loudly in the silence and the music came streaming out.

He recognized an old world piano. They don't make them like that anymore. What passed for this instrument in this day and age was rather crude, unable to replicate the depth of sound. Alas, two hundred years have destroyed all the old fragile ones.

The woman approached him slowly, her hips swaying teasingly as she moved.

_"This is the end..."_

Magnolia's voice was low and sultry, drawing out the sweet sounds. He knew that she would have told her to sing this particular song.

_"Hold your breath and count to ten..."_

Might not be a bad idea. He was tense with arousal, with this whole situation, drunk with the sight of her. He never saw her wearing a dress before.

_"Feel the earth move and then_  
_Hear my heart burst again..."_

She blew the smoke to the side, a curve of her neck alluring.

"So you must be the Silver Shroud," she purred, her eyes half-closed, searching his face. She was tall, as tall as he was since she was wearing heels, a relic of forgotten age. Long fingers trailing the lapels of his coat, almost innocently, "I'm Maresi. It's nice to meet you at last."

He pulled off the reflective glasses and met her gaze, dark versus blue.

 _"For this is the end_  
_I've drowned and dreamt this moment_  
_So overdue I owe them_  
_Swept away, I'm stolen..._ "

"You wished to see me, miss?" his voice was low, and he put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching over and touching her, "is there a problem that requires Shroud's attention?"

"Already talking about business?" she sounded a bit disappointed. Her gloved hand slipped on his shoulder as she led him towards a small clearing between the tables, "not even going to get me a drink?"

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"My dear Maresi, you don't want to drink anything from around here."

She smirked, stopping and looking at him. Challenging.

"A dance, then."

His eyes widened. He had no idea what she wanted, or even what dancing was in her time. But he let her arrange his hands, one on her waist, the other one holding hers. He was unsure and it must have shown on his face as she laughed quietly.

_"Let the sky fall_  
_When it crumbles_  
_We will stand tall_  
_Face it all together..."_

He wished he had gloves off, to feel the soft skin of her back. She took a step back with the music, pulling on him lightly, and he stepped forward, following her. She was leading him, step to the side, turn, step back, turn. He tried to mirror her as best as he could, feeling nervous and rather clumsy, but she smiled and nodded, making him feel more at ease.

Step, step, step. It was not that bad. Behind them Magnolia kept purring into the mic, gently swaying with the rhythm they were also following.

_"Where you go I go_  
_What you see I see_  
_I know I'd never be me_  
_Without the security_  
_Of your loving arms_  
_Keeping me from harm_  
_Put your hand in my hand_  
_And we'll stand..."_

They stopped, looking at each other as Magnolia's voice trailed off at the end of the song. The tape clicked and silence enveloped them.

He let go of her reluctantly and produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. She reached out, picking one without his permission, but he only smiled and held his lighter out for her, flame springing to life with a turn of a wheel.

She nodded towards the singer.

"My friend Magnolia over here has some troubles with a couple of... suitors. They are turning violent, bothering her when she is away from this place and it's bouncers. I worry for her safety."

He lit his own cigarette and took a thoughtful drag.

"How would you like me to deal with them, Maresi?"

She smirked at the sound of her name.

"They are in the Combat Zone."

"So the world wouldn't miss the miscreants."

"Exactly."

He cocked his head to the side, watching her. Her smile was fascinating and he couldn't look away. He didn't care about Magnolia leaving and muttering of Charlie Whitechapel. It all faded into the background as she smiled, and two hundred years seemed to blur as well. He never saw the world before the war, but it felt like if he would step outside it was going to be full of noise, light, people and cars. Police chasing criminals, mobsters plotting their next move, the houses around full and bustling with life...

"I was under the impression that vile nest was cleared out a while ago," he said finally, letting go of that feeling.

"It was," she agreed, her free hand took his, rubbing gentle circles along the top, "not anymore."

She stepped up closer to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek.

"Do that little favor for me, Shroud, and I might just think of some way to reward you for all your hard work," he suddenly felt solid something pressing into his palm. A key.

He wanted to kiss her, but she turned her head and floated away, heading for the exit.

"When you're done, I'll be in Rexford Hotel. Don't keep me waiting..."

Her hips were whispering him a promise as he watched her leave.

 

He was stalking through the night, heading for the Commons. On the way, only a pair of ferals tried to jump him from a dark corner. He fired the submachine gun, tearing them to pieces with ease. He could have had one of his regular weapons, but he wanted to be fully immersed in his role. It felt good.

The sign for a raider bar was strapped together from random scrap, glowing letters screaming "Combat Zone". He frowned at the noise inside. That was a lot of people. With any luck, he could sneak up on them, find a good vantage point and fire with maximum efficiency.

Let the sky fall, he smirked, wondering if she was giving him a clue.

He walked around the trashed building, noticing an open window on the second floor. It was possible to get up there from a neighboring house. The jump wouldn't be a problem.

Raiders were in the middle of watching a bloody match in the cage when bullets started raining down. Some of them even ignored the noise and screams behind them. He could only assume that deadly fights all over the place were normal amongst the likes of them. Some of the raiders climbed up on the second floor to try and flank him, but he jumped down, his trained body rolling without thinking to break his inertia.

He turned over a metal table and crouched behind it, waiting for them to start reloading. As soon as he heard a pause he jumped up and started shooting. The only one that was left standing after that was the gang leader that managed to scrounge together a set of ragged power armor.

It was a monstrous thing, rusty, battered, with spikes welded all over the place. He barely could recognize the T-45 model, probably left over from the war. The raider howled and charged, probably hoping to crush him and pierce him with spikes.

He ducked easily, opening fire on the move. Bullets mostly bounced off the metal shell, but he could see that some had made it through.

The caliber was too small for this one, not to mention too much scatter. His hand dove inside the trenchcoat, producing a .44. He had to jump over on the stage to keep away from the reach of the raider. He then looked up and grinned. Tucking the gun behind his belt, for now, he jumped, pulling himself up onto the cage itself and climbed fast. Grabbing onto the welded railings, he took out the revolver.

Raider was missing the helmet, instead having something like a muzzle strapped onto his head. He aimed, and, despite the shaking of the cage, pulled the trigger, hitting his target.

The leader of now wiped out gang fell down on the floor. He jumped down, turning him over face down with his boot. Extracting the power core, he left a calling card on top of the corpse for the next group to take over this hole to find.

After that, he exited the building and opened fire on the glowing sign. It cracked and spat sparkles as it fell apart. That should help a bit.

With that done he all but sprinted back towards Goodneighbor, his hand finding a key inside the pocket.

 

It was the same room, he realized as he walked in, locking the door behind him. Perhaps she had some sort of an arrangement with the owner of the place. He didn't want to know.

She sat on the windowsill, long legs crossed, looking out, a slowly smoldering cigarette between her fingers. Her silhouette was clearly outlined in the moonlight.

"I trust it's done," she said, throwing her smoke out of the window. He nodded.

Rising from her place, she slowly walked over to him. The room was dark but he could still see that she was smiling.

"I guess everything I heard about you was right, Shroud. Or was it?"

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, even though he knew she couldn't see it, "what else have you heard people say about me, miss Maresi?"

Her nimble fingers took off his glasses and he felt her tucking them into one of his pockets.

"That you can seduce anyone you wish to have. You can make a woman scream your name out in ecstasy just as easily as you pull a trigger," she purred, closing the last sliver of distance between them, "... but your brave heart is already taken."

He chuckled, pulling her against his body.

"Partly true, mostly true and _yes_ , true," he whispered, his now gloveless hands sliding down her back, caressing the soft skin as he captured her lips. He had seen her kiss Magnolia earlier and couldn't stop counting seconds before he could finally do the same to her.

He deepened the kiss, bending her backward slightly. His fingers slid up over her shoulders, easing thin straps of the dress off. He let go of her, letting the fabric slide down her body with a barely audible whisper. His breath caught in his throat. She was now wearing only long gloves and high heel shoes and he drank in the sight of her like a man who just crossed a desert would drink a glass of water.

Lifting her up in his arms with little effort - she was a lithe, slender thing - he carried her over to the bed, sitting her down on the edge. His hat came to rest on the nightstand and he ran a hand through his dark brown hair, smoothing the longer part. He then left his weapons, a pistol, and a submachine gun, and let the coat drop from his shoulders.

He turned back to her, seeing that she was removing one glove, biting on the tip of the finger and dragging it off her arm. She then brought her fingers to the mouth and, looking into his eyes, she began to suck on them. He smirked and started slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

Her glistening fingers trailed down her body, sliding down between her legs. She sighed, her eyes fluttering as she fingered herself, waiting for him. His motions were slow and deliberate. He was in no rush.

Finally, the last button gave up and he pulled the shirt off, dropping it on the floor as well. Walking over to her, he pulled the belt off, holding it in his hands for a bit, thinking.

No. Not tonight. He let it drop with a thump, his pants and underwear soon followed.

He sat down next to her, pulling her hand to his mouth and licked her fingers clean. She was watching intensely, focused on his lips, and as soon as he is done she moved in and straddled his hips. Her lips were soft against his, her tongue is playful. He was sure she can taste the slight tang of her own juices.

She rubbed against him and he groaned quietly. Lifting her up by the hips he positioned her over his pulsing cock, feeling her wet lips brushing the tip. She quivered, breathing shallow. She wanted to drop down on him, envelop him in her slick heat, but he had learned the value of anticipation.

He held her tight, nuzzling into her small breasts. A perked up nipple brushed against his lip and he caught it in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. She gasp and moans and he felt her wetness seeping down on the head. He let her drop down a bit, only dipping in slightly before pulling her back up. She bit back a disappointed moan as he let her go lower next time, spreading her lower lips wider, but pulled out again.

He was waiting, and she knew what he wanted. A sigh marked her surrender.

"Please, Shroud... Take me. Make me yours..."

She was rewarded instantly with him sliding her down on his cock. They both groaned and he buried his face into a crook of her long neck, breathing in deeply. She smelled faintly of something flowery, but underneath that he caught a trail of smoke, sweat, and leather, with a hint of machine oil. Not a very ladylike scent, despite all the work she put in her appearance today, but for him, there was no perfume more exquisite.

He thrust her onto him, time after next, feeling the heat coursing through his body. He forced himself to slow down breathing, biting back on the rising tide of pleasure. Not yet.

Releasing her from a tight hold he laid back, letting her ride him as she pleased while his fingers found her clit and started playing with it. Pretty soon she was panting, her hips jerking. He grinned. Distracting her was always fun.

Flipping over suddenly he pinned her to the mattress. Catching both of her narrow wrists in one hand over her head, he pounded himself deep into her pussy, grunting. She arched into him and a moment later she was crying out. She moaned his name as she came, his _real_ name, but he couldn't care less about a break in the role.

He kept going, but he knew it was not too long now, her fluttering walls drained all the resolve from him. He wanted nothing more than to spill his seed inside the inviting wet heat, to make her his, and so he did. Unlike her he was almost always quiet since life in the military taught a certain level of discretion. He found it fascinating that she was so openly loud with her pleasure. He always wanted to hear more.

Pressing his forehead to hers he wondered if she had done anything like this with the other one, but somehow he knew that she didn't. This... whatever it was, was theirs and theirs only.

Rolling off her he sat up, catching his breath. Her hands came up behind him and he felt her body against his back.

"Stay?" she asked innocently and a small single word, it almost crushed his will. He shook his head and stood up, breaking the contact before it was too late.

"I have to go. Thank you."

He dressed quickly, grabbed his weapons and left his key on the nightstand instead. She was lounging on the bed, half-wrapped into the tangled sheets, and watched him.

"Goodbye, Maresi," he whispers. He had to leave, now, before she had a chance to persuade him otherwise.

"Goodbye, mister Silver Shroud," she purred. He nodded to her and walked out, the door closing behind him.

He was down on the streets again when something made him look back, and up in the open window, he saw her. Her skin was almost glowing in the darkness, sheets draped around her naked body like a gown of moonlight. She blew a kiss to him.

He tipped his hat, smiling, and walked into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adele's songs still live in the twenty-third century because I said so.


	3. Reversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where teacher and student trade places for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this part, and you probably guessed it's Danse's time in the spotlight.

The metal just wouldn't give up.

Danse tried to get the door open, but he hadn't pick locks since he was a kid in Rivet City, and it was too complex. The man he was chasing, he was getting further away with every second that passed.

Or setting up a trap, he didn't know which is worse.

He tried again to bash it in with his shoulder, but it only bent slightly. He gritted his teeth. If only he would have been in his power armor, the damn thing wouldn't have had a chance at all. Alas.

Vulnerability he felt when donning the Shroud costume was fresh but a bit unsettling. The costume had some armoring added to it, thanks to Arthur, who had modified it much like he did his own battle coat, but it wasn't that great.

Not like a T-60 armor great, though nothing could compare to that.

He tried to kick the door in, but also to no avail, other that making it crash into the frame with even more noise. Danse could go look for the other entrance, but it would take time. A luxury he didn't have since the building was massive and he couldn't remember any branching corridors that weren't closed off by debris.

"Need a hand?"

Danse spun around, his rifle ready. He was greeted with a smile. A tall, slender figure wearing the same trenchcoat as he was, though she didn't have a matching hat. A light breeze flowing from a broken window played with her short messy hair.

"Let me have a look at this," she walked right up to him, ignoring the laser rifle he was too startled to put away and pressed down on the barrel, "you do realize that this thing gives you the hell away as a Brotherhood soldier?"

"So?" he was slightly annoyed as he put the gun down, this was supposed to be his night. Though she probably noticed him leaving. She was a light sleeper and he never was good at stealth.

Not anywhere near her. Anna probably followed him all the way from the Diamond City and he never even noticed.

"So the guy probably figured out that you are hopeless at anything connected to the art of subterfuge," she lowered herself to her knees, her Pip-Boy's screen glowing bright gold to help her see, "like the rest of the tin men. So he slammed a heavy door with a good lock in your face. And he's golden."

Danse huffed in annoyance, but he knew that she was right. Despite loving both rifles that he gave her, Anna always carried non-descriptive weapons as a Shroud. A Brotherhood-issue laser rifle or a laser musket would have given her away. She told him that Arthur took over the Silver submachine gun.

He would have to find something for himself too.

"You're from the Brotherhood too."

"Yeah, but you know what," the lock clicked loudly and the door slid open, "I'm way more than that."

What happened with a lost looking vault dweller he saw running into the Cambridge police station courtyard? That woman was soft and gentle, her hair glossy, falling down way past her shoulders, and she was shaking at the sight of charging ghouls.

Her hair was the first one to go.

She had cut it short and messy in the ArcJet after a synth hunter grabbed her by it and threw her down the elevator shaft. Only Preston Garvey, diving after her and managing to catch her by the wrist before it was too late, saved her from almost certain death.

Still pale from such a close call, Anna asked the men in a wavering voice if they could let her borrow a knife. Danse was slightly suspicious, but he handed his own combat knife to her, handle forward.

He then watched with fascination as she pulled together her dark, slightly wavy hair, twisted it around her fingers and stuck a blade under it. After a few seconds, it was over and she let the curls scatter on the trashed floor.

Danse liked to think that was the moment Anna Lester he knew was born.

His fingertips ghosted over her dark hair. She looked up at him, smirking, and Danse felt a shiver going up his spine. It started to happen each time she crouched down to pick a lock, reminding him hard about the other times she knelt in front of him.

"I'll take point," he said, motioning to the staircase. Anna shook her head as she stood up.

"This isn't your regular mission. Be quiet, I'll climb the other way."

She was stepping out of the window onto an old shaky fire escape before he could argue with her. Danse didn't trust those things. It felt like they would break off the rusty supports at any moment.

Still, she was probably right. He walked up the steps as quietly as he could, peeking over corners carefully. No movement yet. He kept his eye open for tripwires and mines as well.

Next floor of an old hospital was empty. It was weird, usually places like this one were filled to the brim with ghouls. A lot of buildings had withstood the blasts if they were sufficiently far away from the epicenter, but were not made to protect the inhabitants from the fallout that ensued after.

Hospitals, he knew, hosted hundreds of people before the war, patients, and staff. Most of them were unable to escape in time and started to turn.

Sill, it's never too careful to search through. The only thing he finds is another painting, made in blood. Danse gritted his teeth. This guy started kidnapping drifters in Goodneighbor. Hancock was furious when he and his knight showed up at the old statehouse.

Somehow from the way the two talked he felt like Anna was already involved into this.

Maybe that was why she followed him. Not to pester him or reverse roles of teacher and student for a change, though she totally did that too just because she could.

The old concrete of stairs cracked and gave under his foot and he cursed, almost losing his footing. A chunk of staircase fell down with a crash, making a hole, and his voice echoed in the empty level beneath him.

Groaning, Danse sprinted up. His position was compromised, might as well move quickly.

He burst through the door and froze.

A man in a clean, neat suit stood in the middle of the room, a weeping young woman in front of him. A bloody knife pressed into her throat.

"Ah, you're finally here," the man was speaking evenly as if he was chatting with Danse over a cup of tea, "the Shroud comes to take me away. A pity. I had just arranged the lower floor for my new gallery."

"You brought it on yourself, filth," he growled, low and menacing, his mind racing. He needed to get the civilian out of here.

"Please... sir... help me..." the drifter woman sobbed, shaking. He nodded.

"Not so fast, dear. Should I tell the good sir that there are four more hostages on the other floor, tied to some lovely, lovely explosives?"

He saw a faint green glow of a remote detonator.

"Shit."

"How crude," the maniac scowled at the curse, "you have to go now. Leave me and Elis alone, or I will paint the walls of that room red. And that would be a pity. I have something special planned for her."

The woman let out a blood-chilling shriek.

Danse didn't know what to do. He knew the right thing would be to save as many as he could, but... He couldn't leave her behind. Not with this madman. Not like this.

A window burst into thousand shards, a dark figure rolling over them. Danse couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

" _Pickman_. I'd say it's nice to see you again, but I can't. Sorry, pal."

Anna rose to her feet, smiling, but it was a different kind of smile. Almost a snarl, her eyes were cold and dark, devoid of any mercy.

"Ah," he turned to her, "it's you, my killer. I'm so disappointed, dear... and here I thought you understood my art, being quite an artist yourself."

"As long as you were taking raiders," her tone was sharp. Danse reached for his gun while this Pickman was distracted. The man took a step back, clicking his tongue.

"You people never learn do you?" his finger popped open the cap on the detonator.

"Oh, you have no idea," Anna grinned and put a hand in front of her. She was holding about six sticks of dynamite, with wires tangled all over them. Even from his position Danse could see that remote mechanism had been ripped out. She tossed it up in the air on her palm.

Maniac started clicking the button, but of course, nothing happened.

While he was distracted, Danse pulled out his rifle and shot the hand that was holding a knife to the girl's throat. Pickman cried out. Drifter dropped to her knees and scurried away, hiding under a table.

"It's... not over!" Pickman was retreating to a corner, pale as paper.

"You're not the first one to ever say it. It's actually kind of cheesy," retorted Anna, lifting her revolver.

The gunshot came at the very same moment Pickman hit a small lever. It was too late when Danse noticed wires running up the ceiling and to the set of heavy double metal doors.

They swung open and dozens of ferals came rushing out, howling. A high-pitched scream of horror the drifter gave got their attention immediately.

His feet were carrying him on the intercept trajectory before he could even think. He slammed into a ghoul with force, knocking the closest withered creature on the floor. The room flashed red as he opened fire.

He noticed Anna grabbing a blade from Pickman's corpse before she darted out of his field of vision.

It seemed like Pickman managed to lure pretty much every single ghoul in the building into that room. They poured out in waves, giving him just barely enough time to kill them. Worse, he couldn't retreat to a better position, as the drifter kept wailing and babbling incoherently. They would be upon her if he moved, so he had to stand his ground.

Anna was in no such predicament. She fired her revolver, cutting down any ghoul that came to close. Moving fast, she repositioned herself to the side of the door, where she could deal most of the damage.

A few ferals managed to break through and slash him with their claws. He slammed them with his rifle and continued his last stand.

Finally, it was over. Anna slipped into the adjacent room to make sure there weren't any stragglers left. Danse tried to reach over to the drifter, but she shrieked and darted away from him, disappearing down the flight of stairs.

He supposed it could have gone better...

Gunshots made him jump up and he rushed over into the room that was previously holding ghouls.

The smell was rancid. But he could see now that there was one more left. A Glowing One. Anna was retreating, firing her revolver, but soon she needed to reload. Dodging one blow from a rad ghoul she missed the other.

Its arm caught her underneath the jaw and she dropped to the floor.

Danse saw red. He fired, perhaps too fast to be as accurate as he needed, too generous with his ammo as the thing darted from side to side, charging. It leaped on him, hissing and baring it's teeth as he ran out of fusion cells.

It crashed down on him, but somehow it didn't attack and Danse was fast to drop it to the floor, disgusted. Only then did he notice a knife sticking out of the back of the creature's head and saw Anna sitting upright, her hand outstretched.

He rushed over to her, adrenaline still coursing through him, helping her up. As soon as she was on her feet he pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, tasting blood on them. A goddess, that's who she was. Of battle and blood and victory. He watched her grow in skill, trained her, protected her, only to see her eventually surpass him.

Just like Maxson did. No wonder they were gravitating towards each other.

Forcing the thought out, he focused on her. His fingers inspected the side of her head where she took a hit. Anna flinched when he ghosted over her jaw and she pushed his hand away. Her palm slid up his arm and stopped when she felt liquid rolling down the waterproof fabric.

Shit.

"You're hurt."

"So are you."

"There is a fucking gash on your wrist. I'll just have a bruise."

Danse sighed heavily. He didn't want her to see it. Didn't want her to have to take care of him. He already felt like he wasn't contributing enough to the team. He could stitch up the wound just fine on his own, but now there was no chance in hell she would let that slide.

"Let's move. We can deal with it back at Kellogg's place. Besides, it's just a flesh wound."

"Who knows what filth those ghouls have had under their claws. It's never good, though. Come on."

 

Back at her house - she hated it when he called it her house, though, despite this being the way ownership in wasteland worked - Anna was fumbling with a medkit. Danse took off the Shroud costume and inspected a rip on the right sleeve.

Not too bad. They would be able to fix it.

"Put that down and take off your shirt."

Danse chucked. She would make a fine Paladin one day, with that tone of hers. She quickly picked up on command and leadership from him and Arthur, something that made her stand out from the crowd.

He complied because it was really the only thing he could do. Unbuttoning the shirt with one hand was painfully difficult. In the end, deciding that this thing was already ruined, Danse ripped it open. It was not that big of a problem to find another relatively white shirt.

Motioning for him to sit down, Anna approached him. She cleaned the deep gash nails left on his arm and had to cut away some small pieces of ragged flesh to make the wound close up tightly.

Danse was biting on a leather glove while she did that. Deathclaws at the very least left clean cuts with their razor sharp weapons. Ghoul wounds were a lot worse in his opinion.

After applying some antiseptic - it burned like hell - to get rid of whatever nastiness could have gotten into the wound, she started stitching. That was not too bad, but still far from pleasant.

Finally, Anna got up on her feet and he felt another needle, piercing his skin above the wound. Immediately cooling sensation hit him and he breathed a sigh of relief, pain in his arm soothed.

"All done," she went to wash her bloody hands in a small basin in the secret room, now used as a storage and a sort of kitchen.

Flexing his fingers, Danse felt a burning sensation return to the wound, right below his elbow. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Anna crossing her arms.

"Stop that. You'd better do stuff with the other hand until it heals a bit. Or you'll be re-stitching that yourself."

"Fine," he was annoyed. There was too much stuff he needed to do. Fix a servo on his power armor, clean his rifle, go through the arsenal kept in this house and pick a weapon for the Shroud situation and fix the damn suit.

Not to mention that he was hoping to shave. The stubble started to go long enough to start bothering him. He really didn't know how Arthur was living with a beard.

Anna seemed oblivious to his frustrations. Humming contently, she threw the bloody water out of the window, rinsed a basin with some clean water, splashed it out again. A kettle was starting to whistle on a hot plate.

When she handed him some instamash, he forgot about the wound again and started to eat with his right hand. Soon enough a spoon was flying out of his unruly fingers as he cursed under his breath.

Under Anna's pointed gaze, he wiped his spoon and switched hands. There was a hint of amusement on her face when she watched him eat. He supposed he did look kind of clumsy with a left hand.

A knock on the door distracted her and Danse was fast to shovel as much food into his mouth as he could with his right hand while she wasn't looking. That would just be easier.

Nick the detective walked in, bringing in with him whiffs of cold morning air and cigarette smoke. Danse frowned. He preferred not to talk with the synth unless he really needed to.

"I 'eard you were in town, so decided to drop by."

Anna laughed and hugged him. Danse couldn't help but flinch when he saw a skeleton-like metal hand come up, but the synth merely patted her on the back.

"Now who told you that? I thought I managed to enter without much fuss."

"Well, when you have a six-five tall tin man following your every step it's kinda of hard to blend in."

He met the synth's gaze.

"Danse."

"Valentine."

Anna and Nick talked in a hushed tone, with synth showing her some folder. Anna was rubbing her forehead, looking irritated. Finally, she took the folder from his hands and nodded.

"Well, I'd be telling the undertaker he's 'bout to get busy," said Nick in a weird accent and Anna laughed, smacking him on a shoulder.

"Are there really any undertakers in the wasteland?"

"Well, some, of course. But most corpses end up being disposed of by one type of scavenger or another..."

While the two talked, Danse finished eating and cleaned up. Walking up to a large shard of a mirror sitting on the wall over the basin, he scratched his chin. He should have shaved yesterday.

Although maybe he could get a better deal out of Anna. He smirked at himself.

 

When the door closed after Nick, Anna turned to him and rushed over instantly.

"Oh no, you won't!"

He pretended to be offended.

"I'm fine, just stop fussing over me."

"Nope. Nope. Nope," she took the straight razor out of his hand, "you're going to cut your head off."

"Knight, I need to shave or I'll drive myself nuts," he said with the strictness he usually reserved for orders in combat.

She frowned. Grabbing him by his arm she inspected the wound.

"Oh very well."

She walked up to the hot plate and checked if there is any water left in the kettle. She then poured what was left into a basin, mixing it with cold water that was already there.

"I'm capable of handling myself," he frowned at her, "it's just a scrape."

"Uh-huh. It almost gnawed through the muscle. If you won't let it rest it might not heal properly and will end up hurting your entire life."

Danse remembered that after a fight with a deathclaw he had told her the very same thing. He had to carry her to the vertibird as she tried to wrestle her way out of his grasp, red-faced and embarrassed to be seen in that position.

He already lathered himself, so she came to straddle his hips. Danse went still when a razor came up to his face.

She worked silently, with swift, clean strokes, turning his head when she needed.

"You are... good at this," he admitted, surprised, as she was rinsing the blade.

She chuckled, her light brown eyes suddenly dreamy.

"When Nate came back from the war he was... hurt. It took him some time to recover, and I had to help him do a lot of things. Dress. Eat. Bathe... shave."

Danse's eyes went wide. She never talked about her late husband.

The razor returned, sliding along his skin with care. She didn't say another word until she was finished, and after she wiped his face with a towel, Anna stood up and turned away.

"I... uh, I'll be right back," she said and all but sprinted towards the door.

 

After a few minutes, Danse decided to go looking for her. He found her easily, sitting on the roof of the house. She hugged her knees, looking without seeing somewhere in the distance. He wasn't used to seeing Anna look... vulnerable. Ever since she got over the shock of transition, she was tough as nails.

And now he pulled that up from under the carefully constructed armor she wore. He felt like an ass.

Climbing up a shaky ladder, he scooted over to her. She didn't move, watching the sun rise over the stadium walls.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't want to... bring that up."

"You're fine."

She reached into her pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. Danse carefully took it out of her hands.

"That wouldn't help."

"What does it matter? I doubt I'll live long enough to get cancer. Not in this world."

He hummed, not really arguing that. Anna sighed, dropping her head to her knees.

"I just... I don't want to see that happening to you. Or Arthur. It was hard enough to deal with in the old world. And we didn't stare death in the eye for a living."

"We'll get through anything. You know that," he tried to sound confident. She needed that. She shook her head.

"We are not invincible."

He looked to where a bruise was blooming on her jawline. He remembered the cold grip of terror and a blaze of rage he felt when she dropped to the floor.

"No... we are not."

They sat in silence, watching the light creeping over the Diamond City.

"It changes you. Living in the world that is teetering over the abyss. It was a dark time, Danse. Darker than this, in a way. The only way from here is up. We only could go down in atomic flames, and we all knew it..."

The pre-war world, another topic she doesn't like to talk about. He wanted to reach over and soothe away the ghosts, but it felt like she needed to let it out. So he stayed silent.

"After I came back to life, saw what had happened while I was... away. There was no more room for doubt. Losing everything and risking what's left daily, it makes you think. There is no time for regret. No time for hesitation. Take everything or don't. Every day we have can be our last."

He knew what she was referring to. Him. Arthur. The weird... thing they have going.

"Brotherhood is, in a way, a shard of the old world. Order, ranks, decorum. But I don't care anymore. I watched the world burn, felt the atomic breeze on my skin as the bombs fell. I am way too old for that game."

Danse chucked. She was two hundred and forty years old, if one counted from the day of her actual birth. A time traveler. And she didn't like when people point her 'age' out to her.

"So you decide to follow rules that suit you, huh," he shrugged, "better not point that out to Arthur."

"Oh, he knows," she smirked, "he likes it. I don't give a damn about his lineage. I'm not in it for his name, or the privilege, or the rank. I just follow what my heart tells me."

"Do you love him?"

He cursed at himself immediately. That was unnecessary. And, well, why did he just... Shit.

" _Love_. It's such a weird word, don't you think?" Anna smiled weakly, "you know, I used to take Latin and Greek when I was in law school."

"Aren't those languages long dead now? What purpose would they serve."

"'Ad Victoriam' came from Latin you dummy," she actually gave out a small laugh, " and! They make really good mottos, as well as battle cries."

"Uh. I didn't know that."

She shrugged.

"Anyway, Greeks had four different words that all mean 'love'. All different kinds of love. And we only have one. Love for a person. Love for a family. Love for a pet. Love for a thing. We use the same word, despite them all being different feelings."

"That does sound kind of... lame on our part."

Anna nodded in agreement.

"With that in mind... I still love Nate and I doubt I'll ever stop. But also yes, I do love Arthur," his heart dropped. Danse looked down at the city below and wondered where can he get the strongest alcohol around there.

Turned out, she wasn't finished yet.

"And I love you. But those are all different feelings, just like you are all different people."

His head snapped towards her. She still looked into the distance, refusing to meet his eyes. His hand came up over her back, unsure, but Anna leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Danse didn't know how different from his own were her feelings towards him, but he was content to know that she loved him, in her own way. And perhaps that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all, dear readers. Thank you for being with me on this journey.


End file.
